Paul Rudolph’s oft-reviled A&A building (where I never had a class) always beckoned me to come in and explore. It was the only building in the world ever to do that for me.
It seemed to open itself to the street in multiple seductive ways. I could hardly ever resist darting inside one entry or another if I was passing by. Once inside, I would find myself in an open expanse or a broad or narrow stairway — and all of it surrounded by this jagged corrugated surface of grey concrete. Whichever way, I would be drawn to the next level or around some corner — in which there might be a copy of a Greek torso sculpture or another stairway to somewhere else — but never a flat surface or a square hallway or room with a top and bottom. It never seemed to look the same twice. I just loved to get lost in it.
– Andrew Weltchek